


A Phoenix of Time & Love

by LyraMoon22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-War, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Weird Plot Shit, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraMoon22/pseuds/LyraMoon22
Summary: The message to Hermione Granger is delivered to her by a mysterious, bloody and injured owl. The message only says three words:"Magic will die.""Impossible" is what Hermione thinks when she first reads it.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic I’m sharing here. I’m expecting this to be plot heavy with a slow burn. This will follow two storylines in a way, but it's all connected. 
> 
> Also, I am still looking for beta readers who avidly read Dramione content, so if you are interested DM me on Twitter @lyra_moon22
> 
> Thank you for reading.

_The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible._

_\- Severus Snape_

_October 2000_

The first letter was delivered to Hermione Granger by a bloodied, feather burnt and worn owl. 

She was sitting at her desk in the Ministry, her quill scratching against parchment as she began revising. Crossing out overused words, adding little notes in the margins, and adding to her ideas. It was by the fourth _tink_ sound coming from her window that she finally looked up and found a speckled brown short-eared owl, tapping its hooked black beak against the glass. A letter was wrapped around its leg. The owl seemed to have suffered an attack of sorts, as the tips of its wings were singed and burnt, and it was missing patches of feathers down each of its wings. Scarlet was speckled across its feathered chest. _Is that blood?_

A look of puzzlement crossed her face as she placed her quill on her desk and stared at the owl. 

As the Ministry was underground, windows were enchanted to mimic the outside environment. Hermione had chosen to have her window enchanted to replicate a real window from a muggle building, and nothing else. So why was an owl trying to deliver her a letter through an enchanted window? 

Picking herself up from her desk, Hermione walked over and pushed the glass open. The owl’s wings brushed against her face as it almost flew into her shoulder. It dropped the letter into her hands, and then landed with a small thud onto the floor. 

“What in Merlin’s name?” 

Hermione looked down at the envelope. It was in a wax seal with no crest engraved onto it, and on the back in scratchy and thin handwriting read:

_To: Hermione Granger_

_Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, S.P.E.W. Division_

_11th, October 2000_

The owl squeaked and squaked by Hermione’s feet as the bird stumbled to lift itself onto its legs. Given that the bird was now not flying, she could see how extensive the damage was on the owl. A few feathers fell off from its wings as the creature began to peck at itself in quick and succinct motions. 

Looking back at the envelope, she tore open the wax seal and slipped out the letter. In the same scratchy and thin handwriting, were three words:

_Magic will die._

She read it three times while standing, and then another two times as she sat down in her chair. 

Then Hermione laughed. 

She crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the rubbish bin by her feet. “Absolute rubbish. Magic can’t _die._ ” She said to herself.

Magic was set energy, it was as natural as oxygen was, always there, and there were times you could feel it. Even now as Hermione sat and watched the owl peck at its feathers, if she concentrated enough, she could feel her hands' thrumming and tingling with the magic flowing in the air. 

It was reassuring to know magic was always around, almost like a security blanket, or a warm jacket that fits you perfectly on a day you most need it. 

And what was that even supposed to mean, anyway? _Magic will die._

 _Impossible._ Hermione shook her head. It was most likely from someone trying to get her scared by some silly prank. _Most likely because of my work in S.P.E.W,_ Hermione thought. Some pureblood families had already sent her Howlers expressing their dislike for S.P.E.W. 

The owl gave a hoot, then continued to peck at its feathers. 

The window was still open, and it could leave if it wanted to, but the owl stayed put on the floor. It was in no condition to fly, and was probably in a lot of pain. 

Hermione grabbed her wand, spelled the window back to a close. Circling back to her desk, she picked up her quill and some new parchment, and started drafting a letter to the Department’s creature health consultant. 

— 

“Well, it certainly seems it’s been through something nasty I’d say,” Her ex-professor, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank said. She was squinting at the owl in front of her, looking closely at one of its wings. The owl was sitting on a perch in the middle of Hermione’s desk. “What’d you say happened to it?”

Hermione stroked the top of the creature’s head before pulling her hand away. “Oh- it flew in like this. I have no what happened or who’s owl it even is.”

“Hm..” Professor Grubbly-Plank ran her wand across each of its wings. The owl tried to nip at the witch’s fingers as she did so. “Some scratches, a few burns, missing feathers, a couple of broken bones, goodness me, Ms. Granger, it’s a miracle it even got to you in such a condition as this.”

Hermione shifted in her seat. A part of her felt guilty for the state the owl was in, even if she knew it wasn’t her fault. “Is there a chance you could watch over this owl until it’s better? I’d hate to send it back out to its owner without giving it proper care."

Grubbly-Plank nodded, rising from her seat and placing the owl on her shoulder. “Of course, I was going to suggest taking it with me back to Hogwarts, where I can keep a close eye on it.”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you. I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

Grubbly-Plank gave Hermione a warm smile, beginning to walk out of her office. “None at all! I’ll owl you on his condition. Don’t worry too much dear.”

Hermione gave Grubbly-Plank another round of thank you’s and said goodbye, leaving her alone in her office once again.

The owl problem had pulled her away from her S.P.E.W. document. She had been drafting a contract for Parvati Patil to take in an abused house-elf named Yarpy. So far, she had only revised the first page. As she started her work, her mind kept repeating the ominous three words in the letter. 

_Magic will die, Magic will die…_

Hermione stared harder at her document. 

_Impossible. Magic can’t die. It’s just a silly prank. Someone trying to rile me up, maybe mad at me for my work here-_

Her elbow knocked into her ink bottle, spilling its contents onto the table and seeping into the wood. Before it could drop to the floor, Hermione grabbed her wand and casted a quick _Scourgify_ , watching the ink disappear and fade away until her desk was clean. 

As she worked on well into the early morning, she tried her best to not think about how impossible it was for magic to die. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ October 2000  _

Illogical.

That was another word Hermione would use to describe how magic couldn’t die. It was illogical as much as it was impossible. It’s as present in the air and abundant as oxygen, something that is constant, fixed, always there. 

“Get a look at this. The Daily Prophet says Narcissa Malfoy’s going to be working at the Ministry soon.” Ginny said, who was sitting across Hermione at their table in the Leaky Cauldron. 

They had agreed on a Wednesday brunch since Ginny had come back from her game against the Montrose Magpies in Scotland. 

It had only been a few days since the owl incident happened in her office, but Hermione had put it behind her, only thinking about it as her mind drifted before bed or stolen moments during her work. It had slipped into her thoughts for a moment as the chatter of the bar and the crackling of the fireplace distracted her thinking, but she quickly brushed it away. 

Ginny glanced at Hermione over the newspaper. “Where is she working do you think?”

Hermione continued adding changes to her document for Parvati. “ _ — under your care, you agree too… _ ” She mumbled against the chatter of the others around them and the soft clinking of silverware. Her parchment was now a mess of scratchy words and ink blotches as she wrote. 

Ginny flicked the newspaper again, clearing her throat. “I wonder what Department she’s going into. Certainly not Magical Sports and Games…. maybe Magical Accidents and Catastrophes? What do you-”

A waitress came over, floating down onto the table Hermione’s coffee and Ginny’s tea and sandwich. “Enjoy!” the witch said before walking over to another table. 

Hermione still didn’t look up, continuing to mumble to herself. Her quill scratched against her parchment even more _. “…Given the past of Yarpy the house-elf, she will need proper-”  _

Ginny lightly kicked Hermione’s shin under the table.

Hermione jumped.  _ “Ginny!” _

“Hermione! You aren’t even listening to me! Did you not hear me at all when I said how Harry’s terrible at making scones?” Ginny shook her head with light laughter, setting the newspaper down on the table. “You said only a minute to finish up. It’s been _ ten _ .”

Hermione looked up at the clock hanging above the wall of portraits. Time was already going by fast, and after her brunch with Ginny, she had a meeting with Parvati back at the Ministry.

“You should relax a little. I’m sure Yumpy-”

“-Yarpy-”

“Will live another day if you just give yourself a break. The house else is staying at a foster home for the moment right?”

Hermione rolled her parchment and capped her ink bottle, placing it into her bag. “You’re right, sorry. What were you talking about? Someone at the Ministry?”

Ginny held up the newspaper again. On the page was a picture of Narcissa Malfoy stepping out of a lift and entering through the Atrium hall. Her son Draco Malfoy close behind her. Above the image read: LADY MALFOY JOINS THE MINISTRY 

Hermione’s brows furrowed. “Narcissa Malfoy?” 

Ginny nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. “That’s what they’re saying. Although no one knows what Department she’ll be in.”

Hermione casually twirled her finger over her cup, the spoon spinning her steaming coffee. “What does she need to work at the Ministry for? Draco’s already working at Gringotts.”

“That’s what I’m wondering! Unless she - wait how do you know Draco works at Gringotts?” Ginny pulled away from her sandwich. 

Hermione took a sip of her coffee and shrugged. “When I go there I see him walking by sometimes, and the Daily Prophet said a few months ago that he works in curse-breaking.”

“Like Bill?”

“I suppose so?” Hermione contemplated, trying to conjure up the sparse moments she had seen the ex-Slytherin at Gringotts. “Well no…”

It was only in passing, both of them walking in hurried steps towards their destinations. Neither of them acknowledging the other. Draco kept to his usual fashion of suits and short hair, looking generally the same from their Hogwarts days. Still, a permanent scowl rested on his aristocratic features, and the same sneering voice could be heard from him, only the times she had passed him his insults were not at her but to other employees. He didn’t look like he had been traveling either, his skin was still pale, and he was always there when she went in to make a withdrawal from her vault. 

“He must not travel,” Hermione concluded as Ginny continued eating her sandwich. 

“I guess we’ll have to see what happens. You work in the Ministry anyway. Maybe you could find out what she’s up to?”

Hermione snickered. “Sure, but can we stop talking about the Malfoys? What's this about Harry and scones?”

Ginny's eyes went wide with a smile. “Well I got back from Scotland, and I come home and I smell something burning, and I think well this can’t be good. So I walked in and Harry got himself in this silly apron, holding the most burnt trays of scones I have ever seen in my life! I asked how the bloody hell did he butcher scones and he said he-”

The door to the Leaky Cauldron opens as someone’s leaving, and a gust of chilly air sweeps into the building. A barn owl passes through the door before it’s shut, bearing injuries that look all too familiar as it swoops over to their table. It lands on top of the newspaper with a clatter of silverware and a screech. A few feathers float and then sink into Hermione’s coffee and Ginny’s half-eaten sandwich. 

“What in Merlin's name?” Ginny exclaims.

“Not again!” Hermione hissed at the barn owl, which was in the same condition as the previous one from last week. The tip of its wings was burnt, it was missing patches of feathers, and the same splotch of blood was across its chest. The owl dropped the letter in front of Hermione. A small indent was atop the envelope from where the barn owl had bitten down so hard on it.

“ ‘Not again’, what do you mean?” Ginny eyed the letter in Hermione’s hands.

Hermione flipped the envelope to the back, the letters in the same scratchy and thin handwriting:

_ To: Hermione Granger _

_ Leaky Cauldron  _

_ 15th, October 2000 _

Ginny watched quizzically as Hermione opened the wax seal and pulled out the letter, which said the same words as the other one did:

_ Magic will die.  _

Jaw clenched, Hermione immediately crumbled up the letter and slammed it on the table. The owl gave a soft hoot as she did so. “Rubbish!” 

“What was that about?” Ginny said from behind the owl, which was now pecking at its feathers. 

Hermione glanced around the bar with a sour expression. First her office at the Ministry through her enchanted window, and now at the Leaky Cauldron? How did the sender know she was here?

“Nothing of importance. Just people trying to send silly pranks to me. I think they’re mad at me about S.P.E.W.” Hermione said, clearing feathers from the table.

The owl let out a screech before giving a jerk and toppling to its side.

Ginny jumped back before leaning in closer at it. “Merlin’s beard I think it’s dying!”

Hermione sat up straighter. “What?”

The owl gave another twitch of its damaged wings, breathing shallow and harsh before it gave a final jerk. Its chest stopped rising and falling. 

_ No… _ Hermione thought, staring at the owl. _ Surely it wasn’t… _

Ginny leaned back. “it's  _ dead _ .”

A few of the other people sitting around their table had eyed them with suspicion and whispers, but no one else in the bar seemed to notice the owl or cared.

Hermione leaned back in her seat. This owl died, and for what? To send her some sodding  _ prank?  _

Grabbing her wand, she cleared the table of the mess of feathers and blood. “Come on, we’ve got to bury this owl somewhere.”

“But wait,” Ginny said, pulling out her wand with some hesitation. “Aren’t you going to tell me what that let-”

Before Ginny could finish her sentence, the bar began to shake violently. Dust fell from the ceiling, plates that were floating by the waitresses fell to the ground, becoming inanimate. Brooms that were sweeping the floors stilled and fell to the ground with a shutter. The portraits began to shake and swing, and the movement of the people within them seemed to stop, as though they were from a muggle television, and someone had pressed pause.

The other inhabitants began screaming, some of them ducking under tables. 

Ginny tried to get up, but the shaking intensified as the seconds grew, and she was forced back to the ground again. A candle in the wall above their heads shook on its nail, slowly becoming looser with each violent shake. 

Hermione held her wand up as the candle began to fall.  _ “Protego!” _ She shouted at it, but the candle continued its descent and landed on Hermione’s shoulder, nicking her skin.

Hermione hissed, clutching her shoulder.

_ “WHAT IS GOING ON?” _ Ginny shouted through the chaos.

_ “I DONT KNOW!” _ Hermione shouted back against the screams of the others and the shaking of the walls.

The shaking stopped abruptly, and silence followed as the witches and wizards of the bar paused in their shock. 

As soon as the shaking had ceased, the brooms gave another shutter and picked themselves back up as though nothing had happened. The portraits began to move again. The plates shot back up and resumed their original positions in the air. 

People filed out of the bar, others running to the fireplace to Floo out. 

Ginny started placing her coat on as Hermione transfigured the owl into a cup for easy transportation. She stuffed it into her bag, following Ginny out of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom the barman began screaming as waitresses and waiters scurried around. 

Back out into the open air of Charing Cross Road, the two paused against the wall. Wizards and witches continued rushing out of the bar, running past them down the street. 

“That felt like a-” Ginny began, catching her breath.

“-Earthquake.” Hermione nodded.

Right before the earthquake the letter had said  _ ‘magic will die.’  _

_ Was this magic dying? _

_ “It’s impossible!” _ Hermione whispered, forgetting Ginny was beside her as they made a left down the street. 

“It was just an earthquake, wasn’t it?” 

“But did you see the way the brooms fell, and the plates? That wasn’t normal.” Hermione stared down at her wand in her hand, rubbing her thumb against the wood. 

When she had cast the  _ Protego _ , it didn’t work at all, as though her spell meant nothing. The candle had still fallen.

Hermione couldn’t feel the familiar pull in her fingertips or the surge of energy as it moved through her wand. There was absolutely  _ nothing.  _

The sting on her shoulder doubled again. Hermione dabbed at the spot and looked to see crimson seeping against her robes and on her fingertips. 

“Are you hurt?” Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I’ll be okay. We need to get to the Ministry, they need to know about this.”

Ginny nodded, and the two apparated into the Atrium. The familiar pull and tugging sensation overcame her body, and she was standing in the Atrium. 

Ginny apparated beside her, moving out of the way as people began running around in all directions, screaming and shouting in the chaos.

“Now what happened  _ here _ ?” Ginny said, looking around.

Hermione and Ginny began shoving through the people who were trying to get out. Popping sounded amongst the crowd as they all tried to disparate. Others had taken to going into the lifts which were now overcrowded.

For a moment Hermione thought she recognized the sleek blond hair of Narcissa Malfoy by one of the Floo’s, but Ginny had grabbed her arm and was leading her in another direction. 

“Harry’s over here!” 

Ginny moved through the crowd, Hermione following beside her. 

Hermione’s stomach twisted and turned as they weaved through the throng of panicked witches and wizards.

Something bad happened here, and a familiar feeling rose in her chest, a feeling she hadn’t truly felt in two years. 

Harry was pointing left and right, ordering other Aurors off as they dispersed through the crowd. 

“Harry!” Hermione said.

Harry turned, his face softening and hardening as he spotted the two of them. “What are you both doing here?”

“We came to tell you, there was an earthquake, we were at the Leaky Cauldron-“

Harry stiffened, eyeing their surroundings before looking back at them. “You should’ve stayed there.”

“Why? Harry, what’s going on?” Hermione pressed. 

“There was an earthquake here too, except the Floo stopped working, and people got hurt, really hurt. Three are already dead.”

The air escaped her lungs.  _ Dead?  _

“How did this happen?” Hermione looked around once more. Healers had begun apparating into the Atrium, making their way around to the injured. 

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “But if there’s one thing I know for sure, dark magic has to be involved.” 

She looked back at Harry again. “Dark magic?”   
“What other explanation is there?” Harry said, his face darkening. “Magic isn’t supposed to stop like that. It’s not supposed to cause…” He eyed the crowd around them. “All this.”   
Hermione took in Harry’s words, thinking of what was written in the letters. 

_ Why did it always come back to those three words? _   



	3. Chapter 3

_ October 2000 _

**FLOO MALFUNCTION LEAVES TWENTY THREE INJURED AND FIVE DEAD**

_ In the early evening of October 15, around 1 P.M, following a level two earthquake, The Ministry of Magic’s Floo system ceased to work for two minutes. The malfunction injured twenty three individuals, fifteen being Ministry employees, and killed five.  _

_ Among the injured is the newest member of the Ministry, Narcissa Malfoy, who is recovering at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.  _

_ Five other individuals have been confirmed dead. The latest death, Harmony Hershey, 29, was an employee of Muggle Relations who died of splinching complications.  _

_ Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt reassures that the incident is isolated, and that the Floo system will be up and running again soon. “The Ministry gives its deepest condolences to those injured and to the families of the lives lost,” he said. “We have a talented team working tirelessly to ensure this problem is resolved and to prevent any other malfunctions in the future..”  _

_ The Ministry of Magic released a statement directly following the incident stating that until further notice, the Floo system isn’t operating.  _

Maybe it was guilt or curiosity, or maybe a bit of both, that made Hermione go to St. Mungo’s. 

Stuffing the newspaper into her bag she looked up. The abandoned red-bricked store of  _ Purge and Down Ltd. _ loomed in front of Hermione. Muggles with shopping bags walked left and right behind her, and the street was busy with the noise of bus engines and the honking of cars. 

Hermione moved up to the shop window. The dummy, which was dressed in a ripped and patched pinafore grey dress gave her a tilt of it’s head. 

“Hermione Granger, I’m here for Parvati Patil.” 

It hadn’t taken long for Hermione to figure out that Parvati was missing from her office where they were scheduled to have a meeting. 

With a small nod the dummy grabbed Hermione by her shoulders and yanked her through the glass and vanished from the street. 

The sensation of passing through cold water washed over her body before she was greeted with the familiar warmth of the hospital. 

Like the Ministry where Hermione was only a few moments before, St. Mungo’s seemed just as busy with people running around and directions being ordered. It was quite an opposite scene from the last time she had been in St. Mungos five years prior.

Though there was the usual group of sick or injured people sitting on the rickety chairs, the majority of people were standing or running around. Hermione caught on to a few words.

“THE FLOO!”

_ “My mother is supposed to be here, her name’s-” _

_ “- My arm is burning! I need a Healer now!” _

_ “Floor four!” _

She walked up to the Welcome Witch, who was giving directions to the man in front of her who had a Clabbert coiled tightly around his arm. 

“First floor immediately sir!” The witch said as the man nodded and scurried off.

Hermione was next. “I’m here for Parvati Patil, she’s a Floo vic-”

“Fourth floor, fifth door to the left!, Ulrich Buttonwood ward!” The witch shrilled. 

Hermione made her way to the double doors and took a flight of stairs up until she was in the candle and portrait filled hallway of the fourth floor. 

She searched for the fifth room, weaving her way through the throng of lime-green robes of Healers and their patients who were being floated around to different locations. 

Walking past a couple of muggle patients who seemed to have been sprouting boils on their faces, Hermione spotted the fifth room. 

A flash of blond and black rushed past her, almost knocking her off course. She whipped around to see who had rudely bumped into her, but Hermione’s surprise deflated as it was Draco Malfoy, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his shoes clicking against the linoleum floor. 

Just like every week at Gringotts, Draco didn’t notice her as he made his way further down the hall. He disappeared into room seven, the door closing behind him.

Hermione moved on and entered the fifth room, seeing the familiar face of her fellow ex-Gryffindor. Three other patients were lined in the beds on either side of Parvati, but the curtains were drawn. One of them gave a yelp of pain and another patient was mumbling and moaning to themselves. Parvati however, seemed to not give them much attention as a Healer was hovering over her, running his wand over her arm. 

“Hermione!” Parvati said as Hermione walked in fully. The Healer gave a small glance of annoyance and restarted his spell on her arm as Parvati continued to squirm. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay of course!” Hermione stood by her bed. 

“I’m alright- OW! - Just got a bit burned here and -OUCH!” Parvati winced as the Healer checked her bandages again. “Anyways don’t worry about me I’m going to be o- OW!” Parvati whipped her head to the Healer.  _ “I need a break for a moment!” _

The Healer nodded, pulling his wand awakes and walking briskly out of the room. 

Hermione pulled the chair up to her bed, taking a seat. Parvati did seem okay, she was talking and conscious, but she could see past Parvati’s bandages where it wasn’t covered all the way. The burn marks were a deep green, the color of Floo powder. Hermione wondered if her legs looked the same too. Parvati was lucky she hadn’t gotten splinched.

Parvati glanced at Hermione's bag. “You’re not still here for the meeting about Yarpy are you?”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “No! No! I wanted to make sure you were alright…I’m the reason you were at the Ministry. I feel really awful about it.”

Parvati gave her a warm smile. “Don’t feel guilty, please, Hermione. I should’ve listened to my tarot cards today. Reversed eight of wands….” 

Hermione blinked, clearing her head and staring down at the floor. “Parvati, what exactly happened?”

Parvati stared up, her eyes darting across the ceiling. “Well I did the usual. I announced my destination back at my home and as I went through everything happened so fast. It was…strange. When I landed everything was moving and the lights were going out, and the fire felt real for a second. And maybe I might sound mad for this but…”

Hermione, who had been staring down at her hands, looked up at her. 

Parvati remained deep in thought, her face wide with fear as though she had never left the Ministry. “But it-it felt like everything was really cold, and you know that warmth you get? That feeling when you do magic or you’re around it? That feeling...” Parvati swallowed, catching her breath. “That feeling felt as though it was leaving me, like that  _ feeling _ was being drained from me. I don’t know how to really describe it.”

“Like the magic was dying?” Hermione said, her throat going dry. 

Parvati looked back at Hermione, her face one of confusion and fear. “Yeah….yeah. Like it was dying.”

Hermione rose up from her chair, her heart hamming in her chest. 

Parvati sat up in her bed. “You okay?”

Hermione’s hands started to shake. She brought them to her sides. “Yes- I just- sorry I should be asking you that. Is there anyone I can owl for you? Padma maybe?”

Parvati shook her head. “A Healer’s done that for me already. You should get some rest yourself though, you look like you’re about to faint. Good thing we’re at St. Mungo’s right?

Hermione made her way to the door. “I should let you get your rest, feel better Parvati.” And she darted out of the room, her chest tightening and her legs going weak. The noise and bustling of the hallway seemed to make her head pound even more. 

_ Yeah. Like it was dying…. _

_ Magic will die _

_ Magic will die _

_ Impossible! It’s impossible! _

_ What if it isn’t? What if those owls were right and I- _

In her panicked haze she collided into someone walking equally as fast as her. 

Hermione looked up to see Draco looking down at her with something of a frown. “Granger,” Draco stared her up and down. “Watch where you’re going.”

Her head was spinning, and her hands were still shaking. She clenched and unclenched her hands. “I could say the same to you, Malfoy.” She was in no mood to deal with her old school rival. 

Her legs felt weak and her chest gave another panicked stricken lurch. Hermione leaned against the wall. 

“What in Merlin is wrong with you?” He sneered.

“Nothing!” She hissed, not bothering to look at him.

Draco stood for a moment, as though debating something, then he turned on his feet and stormed past her down the hall. 

Ignoring thoughts about running into him, Hermione stared down at her wand, running her thumb over the wood. 

“Impossible. Illogical.” 

Her fingers thrummed with cool energy, and her wand felt warm to the touch, waiting to be casted with magic. 

Her heart seems to slow and her vision cleared again. Oh, Merlin, had she been on the brink of crying?

“It should be impossible.” Hermione whispered to herself, but a voice in her head, one that she had been trying to ignore since the Leaky Cauldron, came to the forefront of her mind: 

_ But what if it wasn’t impossible? _


End file.
